Death poems
/ page 471 of 560 /
Song
© Emily Jane Brontë
The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:
At Euroma
© Henry Kendall
They built his mound of the rough, red ground,
By the dip of a desert dell,
Venetian Life
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
The meaning of somber and barren
Venetian life is clear to me:
Now she looks into a decrepit blue glass
With a cool smile.
Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust
© Sir Philip Sidney
Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
Scented Herbage Of My Breast
© Walt Whitman
SCENTED herbage of my breast,
Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards,
Lincoln
© John Gould Fletcher
Like a gaunt, scraggly pine
Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills;
And patiently, through dull years of bitter silence,
Untended and uncared for, starts to grow.
A Poet's Epitaph
© Madison Julius Cawein
LIFE was unkind to him;
All things went wrong:
Fortune assigned to him
Merely a song.
A Song of Truce
© Robert Fuller Murray
Till the tread of marching feet
Through the quiet grass-grown street
Of the little town shall come,
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
The Eternal
© Edith Nesbit
Your dear desired grace,
Your hands, your lips of red,
The wonder of your perfect face
Will fade, like sweet rose-petals shed,
When you are dead.
A Reading Of Life--With The Persuader
© George Meredith
So is it sung in any space
She fills, with laugh at shallow laws
Forbidding love's devised embrace,
The music Beauty from it draws.
Complaint Of Body, The Ass, Against His Rider, The Soul
© Stephen Vincent Benet
BODY
Well, here we go!
Injustice of the Courts
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Whites alone upon the jury in a number of the states,
Thus they crush a helpless Negro with their prejudicial hates;
Legal ills they thrust upon him, and the tale is passing sad
Equal rights with white men? Never! Color-phobia makes them mad.
Celestial Music
© Louise Gluck
I have a friend who still believes in heaven.
Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God.
She thinks someone listens in heaven.
On earth she's unusually competent.
Brave too, able to face unpleasantness.
Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish
© Robert Burns
O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.
In The Carlyle House, Chelsea
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Up the steep stair they clatter to each room,
In whispered merriment they pierce the gloom
Of Time's sweet mercy, who with his grey sheet
Did seek in vain to stay their restless feet.
Their peeping eyes and prying fingers' thrust
Disturb Death's shroud and wanton in the dust.
The Wild Iris
© Louise Gluck
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
Lullaby
© Louise Gluck
My mother's an expert in one thing:
sending people she loves into the other world.
The little ones, the babies--these
she rocks, whispering or singing quietly. I can't say
what she did for my father;
whatever it was, I'm sure it was right.
The Easter Decorations
© Ada Cambridge
O take away your dried and painted garlands!
The snow-cloth's fallen from each quicken'd brow,
The stone's rolled off the sepulchre of winter,
And risen leaves and flowers are wanted now.
Inferno Canto02
© Dante Alighieri
Lo giorno se n'andava, e l'aere bruno
toglieva li animai che sono in terra
da le fatiche loro; e io sol uno
Inferno Canto 01
© Dante Alighieri
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
ch? la diritta via era smarrita .
